


That time Michael got suspended

by Sedusa



Series: Be More Chill one-shots [5]
Category: Be More Chill - Iconis/Tracz, Dear Evan Hansen - Pasek & Paul/Levenson
Genre: Acephobia, M/M, Multi, OT3, Trans Rich Goranski, Transphobia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-13
Updated: 2018-08-13
Packaged: 2019-06-26 16:57:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,169
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15667398
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sedusa/pseuds/Sedusa
Summary: High heels scratched against the ground close by. This was a noise Jeremy disliked at the best of times, but the almost predatory way they dug into the polished wood turned the effect into something akin to nails against a chalkboard. Both shoes stopped directly in front of Jeremy, and he looked up at her; a short girl, senior class, turned away from him. The way her shoulders squared spit venom at the world around her, but her voice seemed dripped in the sweet honey of faux-concern as she addressed some poor freshman. “--I just don’t think you understand how inappropriate it is to call yourself a slur you have no right to reclaim.”





	That time Michael got suspended

**Author's Note:**

  * For [vanceypants](https://archiveofourown.org/users/vanceypants/gifts).



> The spiritual successor to "Spit them out", which I wrote a month prior. The Jeremy/Evan/Connor thing probably seems way too casual to people outside Vancey and I. I'll write something with them, eventually--I promise.  
> And again: fuck TERFS.

The Middle Borough High School GSA Club met exactly four times.

Admittedly, it was four more than Jeremy expected. For all that their town wasn’t exactly a homophobe hotspot, no one could say Middle Borough reached the same level of social tolerance as most of Jersey (an already pitifully low standard). Somehow, that acknowledged status quo managed to buckle just long enough for stubborn (and hyper focused) activist Michael Mell to worm some life into their schools’ newborn queer scene. Suspicions about how easily the theater room was handed over for club use abound after, but those rumor mostly died when Michael started dating the reformed delinquent Rich Goranski. Covered head-to-toe in self mutilating scars, most thought twice about confronting him based on appearance alone, and his old reputation managed to scare off the rest.

Unfortunately, what should’ve been a successful endeavor towards the modernization of Middle Borough’s culture ended prematurely with both the discovery of an underground radfem presence, and a scorch mark on Michael’s permanent records.

The club’s door had just on a chilly day in mid October, and Jeremy was tucked at the very back of the room. His fingers were interlocked with the infinitely cute--and infinitely stabilizing--Evan Hansen, as they both people-watched while club activities were prepared. This was usually how they started meetings; initially, Connor Murphy had come with, but after going twice he’d promptly declared the whole thing was ‘a trainwreck waiting to happen’ and skipped the rest. That should’ve been proper forewarning of the inevitable, but Connor’s status as a diva made it hard to take his judgments seriously.

High heels scratched against the ground close by. This was a noise Jeremy disliked at the best of times, but the almost predatory way they dug into the polished wood turned the effect into something akin to nails against a chalkboard. Both shoes stopped directly in front of Jeremy, and he looked up at her; a short girl, senior class, turned away from him. The way her shoulders squared spit venom at the world around her, but her voice seemed dripped in the sweet honey of faux-concern as she addressed some poor freshman. “--I just don’t think you understand how inappropriate it is to call yourself a slur you have no right to reclaim.”

The freshman replied with a sputter. There was something about the validity of asexuality tossed into what was otherwise and anxious word salad. High Heels seemed to have terrified this kid into, effectively, silence. Jeremy frowned. With a quick squeeze to Evan’s hand, he leaned forward to bite a bullet he’d rather not--

“Chill, bro. I’m pretty sure ace ain’t a slur.” Rich’s voice. Moments ago, he’d been giving a crash course on binding safety to a group of trans men caught sharing ace bandages; ever since hesitantly opening up publicly about his transness, Rich found himself somewhat of a community guide. Baby trans kids came to him with a wide range of question that initially left him bewildered, yet now seemed to tug at some sort of parental strings. 

But the disposition of Ms. Stilettos was apparently just alarming enough to pull Rich away from something he considered a personal responsibility.

Jeremy could hear Connor’s bitter satisfaction from here. Beside him, Evan whispered ‘ _ oh, dear _ ’.

“I don’t appreciate someone unwilling to acknowledge the severity of this topic trying to talk over me.” People around them started to go quiet. Jeremy’s eyes darted between Dancing Boots’ back, and what he could see of Rich. “Especially when it’s not your slur to claim, either.”

Rich blinked. Every word she said seemed dipped in the kind of nuanced community discussions better fitted for Michael, but Rich knew what harrassment looked like when he saw it. “... Uh, alright, but I’m still pretty sure that ace is still--”

“I wasn’t done talking.” Jeremy winced. Something about this girl triggered a memory of his mother, and his mother’s perfume burst inside his mind; the sudden sensation was equal parts alarming and unpleasant. “Parroting the conventions of toxic masculinity when talking to other women isn’t going to make you a man. I’m not going to be lectured by a delusional  _ bihet _ .”

_ Silence. _

Evan, completely unaware his lips were even moving, whispered  _ “holy shit.”  _

A moment later, Rich found ground in laughing straight at her.

“Yeah, uh, okay, bihet. Sure, Jan.” The spell broke completely. Others started laughing with him, at her, and then dispersed; to them, this was no longer an interaction worth throwing any weight on. Even the freshman target relaxed just a bit, and, while they had the nerve to, scuttling away quickly.

But Jeremy knew Rich wasn’t acting like he’d won that. His laugh rang higher than Jeremy had ever heard him go, an almost shrill note of frazzled femininity Rich so rarely portrayed, worming it’s way inside. Dorothy's Red Slippers seemed to catch on, and she ignored the social rejection, instead clicking herself closer to Rich. “What’s the matter? Forget women can be strong, too? You know,” she reached up, tucking a lock of Rich’s hair behind his ear, “I could always remind you what you’ve been missing.”

Rich smacked her hand away, eyes wide. “H-hey--”

“GET THE FUCK AWAY FROM MY BOYFRIEND.”

Hooker Heels fell. By physical prompt. Michael appeared where she had moments ago, his eyes wild and hands shaking.

Okay, that’s enough. Jeremy managed to jump up then, several red alarms finally screaming him into action, and the next several seconds happened at lightning speed. “Woah, hey, Michael, w-wait--”

“Jeremy, move--”

“Don’t you fucking touch me, you misogynistic piece of trash _ \-- _ ”

“Michael, don’t--”

“Then don’t put your nasty cracker hands on--”

“I’ll do whatever the fuck I want, you brown--”

_ “HEY!” _

They all froze.

Apparently, the noise they were making meant Coach Hennessy dipped his head inside just in time to see Michael throw his first punch.

… it didn’t go over well. The club was disbanded; the principal managed to keep criminal actions from being pursued, but somehow Michael found himself in hotter water then either Jeremy or Rich had ever seen themselves, surpassing even the ecstacy questioning post-play last year. This was in spite of, or perhaps because of, it being Michael’s first time ever getting some sort of school discipline. A full week of out-of-school suspension, where he had to check in at the disciplinary campus all the way across town each day.

The only thing that offset the severity of Michael’s punishment was the amount of support he got from ex-members. It might not mean much in the long run, but every time Michael got a thank email from one of the trans freshman, or when he and Rich got flowers from the asexual Rich defended, his heart swelled enough to keep from the outcome from feeling wholly hopeless. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad. Maybe a new club would come along in its place.

“Maybe a radical  _ cunt _ will think twice before opening her mouth around what belongs to  _ me _ .”

Jeremy giggled.


End file.
